Belonging
by Gevaudan
Summary: He's had a tough week and Ianto needs reminding just where it is he really belongs. Hints of J/I but a more of a team fic than a romance.


Disclaimer: As you all know, I don't own the characters. I just borrow them occasionally.

Rating: Only for Owen's potty mouth.

Set: Early season 2, Jack's back but some old insecurities are still festering.

"For fuck's sake Ianto, sit down before you bloody fall down!"

At the unexpected shout, Ianto spun round, spatula raised in the same way that he might have held his gun, had he been armed. Sadly for him, reflexes which had taken months to hone had not yet had time to acclimatise to the full leg cast he was currently sporting in order to immobilise the torn achilles tendon he had sustained pursuing their latest Rift refugee through the mean streets of Splott.

Owen, somewhat unexpectedly, found himself with an armful of archivist and a spatula-related facial injury to boot.

"Whoah! Christ Teaboy - you bin at the cakes or something? S'alright. I've got ya, JACK!"

It never failed to astound Ianto how quickly Owen could switch from angry, to insulting, to caring, to bossy, faster than blinking, but before he could ponder it further his thoughts were stopped in their tracks by a bolt of pain that shot from his ankle to his hip. He tried and failed to stifle a gasp of pain.

"What the hell is - " Jack flew into the room like a tornado, poised for danger, his eyes rapidly scanning every inch of the room before coming to rest on Ianto, " Ianto! Are you ok?" his eyes flicked to Owen.

"What the hell happened? Hang on..."

He disappeared briefly and came back with a chair, followed quickly by a curious Tosh and Gwen. Jack quickly helped Owen lower Ianto into it before he reviewed the room, taking in the smoking pan on the Hub's pitiful gas ring.

"Ianto," he sighed, looking pointedly at it, before he could say anything further Tosh and Gwen had leapt into the conversation.

"Ianto, were you cooking?"

"Ianto, you're supposed to be resting!"

Their voices merged and overlapped in shared concern over their injured colleague, Jack raised his eyebrow pointedly at Ianto, whose face was now crimson with embarrassment.

"I was making dinner," he mumbled, shifting slightly in his seat.

"Hang on," Owen got in before anyone else, "you thought, hey I know a great way to rest my leg that Owen has painstakingly put together, I'll cook..." He peered over at the pan, to see what was in it.

"Spag bol," Ianto supplied, apologetically.

"Bloody love spag bol," Owen's mind had skipped again.

Gwen crossed the room to rest her hand on Ianto's shoulder, compassion at his embarrassment at the fuss swimming in her hazel eyes.

"Ianto sweetheart, why were you cooking? We've all lived off takeaways long enough to give over worrying about risk of a heart attack now, surely?"

Ianto glanced up at her then quickly looked down at his feet.

"I felt like I was just sitting around," he admitted, "and I'm likely to do nothing _but_ sit down for a while yet. So I thought," his voice faded away, "I'd do something useful."

Now Tosh came to crouch by him, resting a hand on his undamaged knee.

"Ianto, you did all the research that helped us track down the Rickensian, without that we never would have caught him in Penarth, he' d have escaped into the sea."

Owen butted in, abruptly.

"Hang on, you did the research? I thought you were sorting records in the tourist office?"

Jack dropped down to look the younger man in the eye.

"And I thought you were doing the budget forms... Ianto?"

"I didn't want you to think I wasn't pulling my weight." Ianto's voice was practically inaudible now.

Jack sighed in exasperation, slipping his arm around Ianto's shoulders to help him to his feet.

"Come on, we need a chat."

A few minutes later Ianto was settled in Jack's chair, his leg propped on the desk, cradling a cup of instant coffee and attempting not to grimace at the taste. Jack perched on the edge of the desk, watching the younger man carefully.

"What's this all about Yan?" he asked, after a long moment, "you've been hurt - you need to rest to let your leg recover. So why is it I find you've been doing as much work as usual?"

Ianto stared down at his coffee trying to corral his thoughts into order.

"I don't know," again he looked down, avoiding Jack's gaze until the older man tilted his head up with two gentle fingers under the chin.

"Come on," he asked again, softly.

Ianto sighed.

"It's taken so long Jack," he admitted finally, "so long, to feel like I I'm a part of this team. To feel like I was finally doing something useful and then," he gestured angrily, "this. And now, I'm sat doing nothing to help when the four of you are all in danger. I don't want to go back to being just the teaboy Jack, it was..."

"It was what Ianto?"

The word escaped Ianto's mouth before he could stop it, "lonely."

Jack made a wordless noise of sympathy and gathered Ianto into his arms, team in the Hub be damned. For a few minutes he just held him there, hoping his hug would provide some much needed reassurance.

"You know that's not gonna happen right?" he asked eventually. There was no answer from the Welshman. "Look, I know things were pretty terrible for a while... and I know that some, ok most of that, was my fault. But I promise you, things have changed. The team would, _I_ would still want you here Ianto, no matter what! Even if you had to sit in the hub for the rest of your working life! Because we all care about you Ianto, we all want you here."

The shake of his head was almost imperceptible, but to Jack it said more than a thousand words could. Jack stood up and helped Ianto to his feet.

"Let me show you."

Jack led Ianto back into the boardroom, resisting the urge to embarrass the young man by carrying him, even though he winced quietly as they took each step. When they got to the door Ianto had to pause for a moment to take in the sight.

Gwen was laying out cutlery and laughing at Owen serving up plates of spaghetti bolognaise with a flourish. Tosh has wheeled in one of the more comfortable chairs from her desk which she had done her best to improve by adding a moth-eaten cushion from the sofa.

"Ianto!" she smiled broadly, "sit here."

Gently she led him to the chair while Owen placed a plate in front of him with a "Bon appetit!" with an outrageously over the top French accent.

Gwen took the seat next to him at one side while Jack took the other.

"This looks great," she said, grinning, "Almost as good as Rhys'," she lowered her voice conspiratorially, "I can't say better, he'd have my head."

"Thank you," Ianto answered quietly, "all of you."

Owen looked up, his fork loaded with food, while he chewed enthusiastically.

"You did the hard work mate," he managed to get out around chewing.

"Owen manners!" Gwen scolded, laughing as the doctor swallowed theatrically.

"Alright mum," he groused, "Besides, we thought it was time for a team dinner. I'm sure you've missed our sparklin' wit and dazzlin' good looks while we've been off chasing god knows what around god knows where."

Ianto nodded, grateful that the food in his mouth gave him an excuse not to say anything.

"We've missed you too," Tosh said seriously, as the others nodded in agreement, "none of them understand a word I say half the time."

"Jack's been really grumpy," Gwen confided, shooting a look at her boss.

"No one thinks to being coffee," he retorted, with a grin and a wink, "and I miss the suits, of course."

"I've had one less person to take the piss out of," Owen grumbled.

Jack leaned over to whisper in Ianto's ear, softly enough to not be overhead, "Told you. Never gonna happen."

Ianto looked up and smiled, finally understanding that this was where he belonged.


End file.
